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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26599924">no grave could hold my body down</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quill_A/pseuds/immortal_trash'>immortal_trash (Quill_A)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Old Guard (Movie 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bottom Nicky, Hair Washing, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Nightmares, So many endearments, Tenderness, abuse of tenses, but this is mostly comfort, oh that time in Malta, they are soft</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 03:35:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,050</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26599924</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quill_A/pseuds/immortal_trash</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Joe thinks of those hard earned and precious lazy mornings, sleepy and sunshine filled, Nicky’s head on the pillow, his tousled hair and the soft oh of his mouth as he slept, fingertips brushing against Joe’s chest, their bodies drawn together even in sleep. Or the way Joe would wake up with his nose smushed against the soft skin of his nape, their sleep-damp palms laced together.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Nicky humming while he watered the plants in the verandah, Joe sneaking up behind him, throwing his arms around Nicky’s waist and burying his face in the hair that was beginning to curl up against the back of his neck because Nicky was growing it out-</em>
</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>456</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Cat's must read fics (mostly Dean/Cas and Joe/Nicky)</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>no grave could hold my body down</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Yes my contribution to this fandom is yet another Joe/Nicky hurt/comfort talk-about-Malta-wash-Nicky's-hair fic but I regret nothing<br/>also there will be typos so please forgive and mention it in the comments, thank you!<br/>Also I would like to disclose that I am a POC writing from the pov of another POC so if on that account I make any mistakes or have written something that may be termed offensive, PLEASE tell me and I will fix it right away.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Joe thinks of Malta often. It was home, or as much of a home anywhere could be when none of them ever stayed in one place long enough. Their lives had never been quite so conducive to laying down roots anywhere, to staying. Yet somehow Malta had wormed its way into their definition of home so easily. They hadn’t planned on it being anything permanent, at first; they’d thought <em> we’ll rest here, just for a bit- </em> a week, a month, two months- and that had quickly become <em> why leave </em> ? It would be years before anyone realised that the two of them looked the same as the day they’d arrived, and if they were careful, nobody would suspect anything. So once Andy had said she’d needed a break - “ <em> I’m sick of this shit, </em>” her very words- and Booker was of a similar mind, nodding while he drank out of his hip flask, Nicky had looked at Joe and said, “Let’s go to Malta,” and Joe would never deny Nicky anything, so they had. </p><p>The flat was unobtrusive and small but inherently theirs in a way so few things are in this world. It <em> belonged </em>to them, bits and pieces of themselves they’d allowed to scatter everywhere; Joe’s framed sketches on the wall, the array of gleaming knives in the kitchen which could be used for slicing meat or a man’s throat, take your pick- their bedroom- there was only the one, with the massive king sized bed with the bright yellow throw quilt that Nicky had picked out.</p><p>Joe thinks of those hard earned and precious lazy mornings, sleepy and sunshine filled, Nicky’s head on the pillow, his tousled hair and the soft oh of his mouth as he slept, fingertips brushing against Joe’s chest, their bodies drawn together even in sleep. Or the way Joe would wake up with his nose smushed against the soft skin of his nape, their sleep-damp palms laced together.</p><p>Nicky humming while he watered the plants in the verandah, Joe sneaking up behind him, throwing his arms around Nicky’s waist and burying his face in the hair that was beginning to curl up against the back of his neck because Nicky was growing it out-</p><p>“What do you think, my heart,” he’d asked, giving an exaggerated hair flip that had Joe throwing his head back and laughing so hard it made his chest hurt.</p><p>“You know you could go bald and you would still look like the most handsome man in the world to me, Niccolo,” he’d answered after that, solemnly, which had made Nicky’s eyes soften but he said that wasn’t really a response and <em> “in the </em> world, <em> really </em> ?” with a mischievous glint in his eyes so Joe corrected himself- <em> in the universe- </em> and then “ <em> yes, Habibi, let it grow, and then when it’s long enough I can pull it back and hold it in my fist when I fuck you </em>,” which had made Nicky stammer and flush and then pull Joe out of his chair and against him, back, back, until they were somewhere in the vicinity of a serviceable surface- in this case, the kitchen counter.</p><p>Nicky laughing, surprised and delighted when Joe growled and tangled his hands into his hair and said, <em> Yeah, I could get used to this, </em>and he had wanted nothing more than to kiss the laughter right out of mouth, to taste it. (So he had. Thoroughly.)</p><p>Joe finds himself thinking of that while he washes bits of brain matter and shards of bone out of Nicky’s hair, watches it swirl over the chipped white tiles and down the drain. Joe fingers the little bald spot; there’s no bullet wound there anymore but from experience he knows the hair will take longer to grow out. </p><p>“I don’t like getting shot in the head,” Nicky complains, probably to make Joe laugh and Joe can’t quite bring himself to do that, but his lips do quirk into some semblance of a smile. He thinks, instead, of a thick needle pressing into Nicky’s ribs while he grimaced and hissed in pain and Joe, inches away but unable to do a <em> fucking </em>thing. “And it is not the last time it will happen, unfortunately.”</p><p>“No,” he agrees, and scrapes some dried blood off of Nicky’s shoulder.</p><p>Nicky senses something, like he always does, and turns around, brow furrowed and concerned, hair wet and plastered to his forehead. He catches Joe’s chin between his fingers and Joe sighs, allowing him. “What is it, my love?”</p><p>“We should go back,” Joe says quietly.</p><p>Nicky’s eyes widen for a fraction of a second in confusion before his gaze softens in understanding. “You were thinking about it too?”</p><p>Joe had been <em> fantasising </em>about it, more like. </p><p>There had been many times in Malta, but that was the one that Joe remembers the most keenly, perhaps because being with Nicky there had been like finding him again after losing him, which in a way it was.</p><p>In short; there had been a war (there have been so many, Joe forgets) and there had been a bomb, and Nicky had- in, effectively, all aspects of the term- been blown apart. Or bits of him had. Andy and Booker had been further off, so it was just him, curled over him, praying and praying to his God and Niccolo’s, holding the one hand he had left, whispering <em> Destati, Nicky, please. Please. </em>(Not like this, he’d thought, this was not how he went- Nicky deserved more dignity than this- and it couldn’t even be possible in the first place, because they had shared their first immortal breath together, and they would share their last) </p><p><em> Do not leave me here alone, </em> he’d begged. <em> Do not make me walk this earth without you.  </em></p><p>It had taken him a whole day to gasp back to life</p><p>Later, when Nicky is whole and alive and safe, Joe decides that he’s had enough. He’s sick of watching his family die over and over again, and he’s sick of holding the love of his life in his arms and waiting for the light to return to his eyes.</p><p>“I am not doing this again,” he tells Nicky, and Nicky looks pained and disappointed because doing good is what they <em> do, </em> they can’t just <em> stop, </em> can they. Joe grimaces and relents, “Not for a while, at least, Nico, <em> please. </em> I almost lost you.”</p><p>Nicky agrees, perhaps because he’d read the desperation with which Joe had clutched at him, eyes wet and voice rough and god, they had centuries to save the world, perhaps just this once they could be selfish.</p><p>“Alright,” he whispers, wrapping Joe in his arms and pressing his lips into his hair. They both reek, with blood and sweat and dirt but neither of them care. “Alright, my heart. Whatever you wish.”</p><p>It was not in Nicky’s nature to be selfish- Nicky was good and kind and patient (mostly because he believes there had been a time when he had been none of those things) and given the choice Nikky always did good. “But you are my greatest good,” he tells Joe simply, devastatingly romantic in a way only he can be. “I suppose the world can wait.”</p><p>“We’ll come back,” Joe promises, because he’s not going to make the world wait forever. </p><p>But he also wants to hold Nicky close to him for as long as he can, so that he wouldn’t be afraid that something would happen that he could not come back from, that<em> something </em> or the other would damage his body beyond repair. Dying was not the problem. It was dying <em> alone.  </em></p><p>They’d stayed there for weeks, barely getting out of bed. Sometimes Joe would drag him out and down to the sea where they’d swim for hours and Nico’s skin would catch the tiniest bit of sun. Later they’d go back home and Joe would lick the salt off his skin, then climb on top of him and bite his ear and they’d fuck until they were too tired to move. </p><p>Joe misses it so terribly, he loves his family (yes even Booker, who is a miserable bastard but he’s still his little brother) and would die for them a thousand times over, (which he has, if you want to be technical about it)  but sometimes he wants Nicky all to himself, wants their small, brightly colored kitchen in Malta where they can cook dinner together, hips bumping and hands brushing, and Nico will groan with pleasure every time he tastes his own food.</p><p>Joe nods in response to Nicky’s question, taking a deep breath and leaning forward, resting his forehead against his wet shoulder. “You were right,” he murmurs, “We always go there. Malta has always been good for us. Let’s go back. I’m tired.”</p><p>And Nicky doesn’t say, <em> but we just came back, </em> or <em> what about Nile? </em> Or <em> are you sure? </em>Instead he cups the back of his head and says, “We should get a dog this time.”</p><p>It startles a laugh out of Joe and he lifts his head, grinning. “A very old dog?”</p><p>Nicky gives him his best <em>you're ridiculous, I love you </em>look. "Yes, <em>hayati,</em> a very old dog, just as you wanted. And all three of us will do nothing but laze in the sun all day.” </p><p>Fuck that sounds <em> perfect. </em></p><p>“Perhaps you will finally tan,” Joe teases, brushing his lips over the line of his jaw.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Joe wakes up when something blunt and hard hits him right on the bridge of his nose. He gasps awake, blinking blearily in the darkness, one hand instinctively reaching for Nicky.</p><p>“Nico-” he whispers urgently, but the moment his fingers brush against a bony hip, Nicky seems to move just out of his reach. Joe screws his eyes shut, grimacing, waiting for the crack in his bone to heal, and then he opens his eyes again, trying to touch Nico, make sure he’s alright, but he’s twisting and turning and muttering in his sleep. Joe manages to swerve out of the way of another particularly violent head butt. </p><p>“<em> Fuck, </em> Nico-” he says again, scrambling to sit up, to pin Nikky down first so he doesn’t hurt himself. He’s still fast asleep, eyelids moving feverishly and his expression twitching, his face pale, bed sheets twisted around his ankles. The front of his t-shirt is damp with sweat. Joe makes another attempt but Nicky jerks again, grunting and hissing something in Italian after which he throws his arm out and it slices through the air in a familiar gesture. Joe thinks of grabbing his wrist but that might startle him, so he just comes closer and decides <em> fuck it, </em>cupping his hands over his shoulders and pinning him down. </p><p>Nicky’s knuckles catch him in the cheekbone, whipping his head to the side for a moment, but he holds on.</p><p>“<em> Destati, </em> ” he says urgently, shaking him, “Nicky, wake up, it’s a nightmare, <em> Niccolo, </em>”</p><p>“<em> Where is he? Where is Joe </em>?” Nicky asks someone in...German? That’s German. Joe shakes him harder.</p><p>“Right here,” he answers. “Now <em> wake up </em>!”</p><p>A second later, Nicky’s eyes snap open. He stares at Joe for a second, gaze wild and frightened, a deep, shuddering breath tumbling out of his mouth. Joe places his palm against his cheek. </p><p>“Yusuf?” Nicky whispers, and the look of terror on his face makes Joe <em> sick.  </em></p><p>“I’m here, I’m here,” he whispers back, allowing Nicky to quickly pull himself up.</p><p>“Yusuf,” he says again, firmly, running shaking hands down his shoulders, over his face, his hair. “How are- you are okay? You are <em> okay </em>?” he demands, eyes darting over his face for something he is relieved he does not find. He stops and holds the sides of Joe’s neck, one thumb resting over his pulse. Joe watches his eyes flick over the spot, a beat of three seconds while he seems to be counting. He shakes his head, like he still can’t tell if he’s awake or not. </p><p>“I saw them,” he says in a low, unsteady voice. “I saw them, and you weren’t- I couldn’t, I didn’t know where you <em> were. </em> They would not tell me, Joe. They wouldn’t-” <br/>“Nicky,” he interrupts gently, curling his fingers around Nicky’s wrists and pulling them away from his face. He flinches slightly, still panting when Joe leans their foreheads together. His body continues to tremble. Joe can feel his rabbit quick heartbeat under his fingers. “Nicky,” he says again, <em>“Hobi, </em>I amm here. Do you feel me? I am right here. With you. Yes?”</p><p>“Yes,” Nicky shudders out. “I’m sorry, I-”</p><p>“Do not apologise,” Joe lets go of his wrists gently, skimming his palms over his arms and his neck until he can cup his face. “Look at me.”<br/>Nicky swallows, obediently raising his gaze. Joe rubs his thumbs over his cheekbones and smears a kiss into his forehead. “Do you want to tell me what you saw?”</p><p>“They had you,” Nicky says quietly, and Joe feels his jaw clench with the rage that bursts through him. Every last one of them, he would kill <em> every last one of them </em>, because they can’t leave Nikky alone, not even in his dreams. </p><p>“Not anymore,” Joe reminds him, and Nicky makes a soft, choked noise that sounds awfully like a sob and Joe wants to hold him, wrap himself around him and tuck him against himself, away from the rest of the world but instead he waits for Nicky to finish. </p><p>“They had you, and then they took you <em> away, </em>and I was alone, with you. But then I was searching for you- I looked and I looked but then they told me that you were finally dead, that they’d ripped you apart so many times and carved off so many pieces off of you that your body couldn’t heal, and I killed them, but I was alone, I was alone and I kept trying to kill myself, and I couldn’t- we were supposed to go together, and I, and I-“</p><p>Nicky gives up after that, shaking his head, eyes damp and lips trembling.</p><p>“Nico, my love, my heart, it was a nightmare, I’m <em> here, </em>” Joe tells him, and Nicky just falls forward and into him, and Joe catches him, like always, curling his arms over his body and tightening his grip.</p><p>“They brought me your <em> head, </em>” Nicky whispers against his neck.</p><p>Joe cups the back of his skull, cradling him against his chest. “But my head is still on my shoulders. And I am safe. And so are you. We both are.”</p><p>Nicky heaves a shaky breath and shifts closer so he’s almost in Joe’s lap. He doesn’t say anything so Joe just holds him, the two of them rocking together for several long moments. Joe waits patiently for the trembling to fade, glad that he’d decided to sleep here in the one empty bedroom. Not that the four of them have had anything bordering on <em> shame </em>over the centuries, and they have all been witness to each other at their worst- but perhaps just this once Nicky would not have wanted an audience. And he would have hated worrying Nile.</p><p>“Okay?” Joe asks after a moment.</p><p>Nicky sniffs against his shoulder before pulling away, nodding slowly. Joe fixes his palm over the back of his neck just as Nicky leans their foreheads together again, cupping his hands over Joe’s ears. </p><p>“I love you,” he professes quietly, and presses their mouths together. It is hard and bruising and Joe feels something fierce and hot burn in his chest at the touch of Nicky’s lips. </p><p>“As do I,” he pulls away for a second to gasp out, before Nicky kisses him again.</p><p>“If they had taken you away,” he says fiercely against his mouth, “I would never stop.”</p><p>Joe pulls at Nicky’s hip until he’s spread over his lap, his hands spanning over his waist and pulling him closer so that there is no distance separating them, just Nicky and the achingly familiar contours of his body, the steady thrum of his heartbeat between them. “I know,” he tells him.</p><p>Teeth skim over his bottom lip.  “I would not stop until I had found you, and then I would kill every last one of them for every having dared to touch you with their filthy hands.”</p><p>“<em> Albi, </em> ” Joe murmurs, meeting Nicky’s fevered, vengeful gaze. Nicky has always been a patient killer, ice cold and ruthless, motivated by brutality only ever so often. He has never doubted that Nico would burn the world down to save him, to save Andy, Booker, Noriko. (and now Nile) People looked at him and saw only his gentleness, his compassion, and did not notice his quiet, dormant fury. “I would do the same for you. When I saw them strapping you down, <em> hurting you, </em>treating you like a lab rat, I knew that if they separated us I would stop at nothing to bring you back home to me. Together, yes?”</p><p>“<em> Together, </em>” Nicky breathes out, and their lips meet instinctually, Joe’s fingers tangling in his hair, Nicky fisting his hands into his t-shirt and pulling him down, down, until they are flat against the bed, Joe stretched over him. He stops, pulling away from Nicky’s sweet mouth just for a second, raising himself on his palms so he can look down at him.</p><p>Nicky makes an impatient noise and  tries to follow but falls back against the pillow with a huff, tilting his head and blinking up at him. “You would make me wait when I want you so badly tonight?”</p><p>Joe smiles, using a hand to brush a few stray strands away from Nicky’s forehead and he says, “Allow me to appreciate you for a second, please.”</p><p> Nicky’s answering laugh makes the hot curl of worry in his gut loosen a little bit, because he hated to see Nicky like that, shaking in fear and lost in the memory of things that should <em> never have happened to him </em>in the first place. “What are you thinking about?”</p><p>Joe strokes his thumb over Nicky’s eyebrow and says, “You. I am always thinking of you.”</p><p>“But your second is up, no more thinking,” Nicky orders him, and pulls him down, much more firmly this time. </p><p>It’s true, of course, perhaps not the entire thing, Joe muses, as Nicky reaches for the hem of his t-shirt and yanks it off of his head. The whole thing was :<em> you, and that the weight of these years has never been suffocating because there was you, there was always you.  </em></p><p>Nicky is quick and efficient as he pushes his pants off his hips, knowing full well that Joe will be the one to slide them off his legs so he can kick them off, and Joe lifts his t-shirt up, up, so he can skate his hands over the smooth expanse of Nicky’s ribs, marked only by the lightest scars that he’d received before the immortality. </p><p>“What do you want,” he asks in his ear, palm already fitting over Nicky’s thigh and hitching it around his waist.</p><p>“After so many years,” Nicky says, all hushed desire and hunger. “You don’t know?”</p><p>“I like hearing you say it,” Joe murmurs, smirking into the crook of his neck, and Nikky brackets his hips with his legs, hitching his hips upwards so that he can feel his hardness. </p><p>“I want to feel you inside me, Joe, so that I know that you are with me, as you have always been and always will be. So that I know that no one could ever take you away from me,” Nicky tells him, in that particular way of his- openly honest, simple and <em> true. </em>Joe knows he can be ridiculously poetic, it’s just the way he is, but Nicky, well. Nicky is different, and infinitely better at this.</p><p>“They can try,” Joe says, grazing his teeth over the edge of a collarbone, making Nicky writhe underneath him and curl his fingers into his hair. “They would fail.”<br/>He takes his time opening him up with his fingers, Nicky wide eyed and breathless, continually pulling Joe towards him so they can kiss, or Joe can kiss him, while he pants open mouthed against his lips and says <em> Now, Joe, please, </em>but Joe has had many, many years to work on his self control and tonight he wants to be slow.</p><p>So he draws it out and makes Nicky beg and clutch at the sheets and clutch at him until they are both actually in danger of ending this before it begins, self control notwithstanding. </p><p>Joe pushes inside of him (slowly), Nicky’s eyes fluttering closed and his teeth pinning his bottom lip because he doesn’t want to be too loud (and Nicky <em> is </em> loud, not so much normally, but when he’s like this, <em> yes. </em>) Joe pulls his hands over his head and laces their fingers together, rolling his hips gently so that Nikky can relax into it, hold him tighter between his thighs, and predictably decide that he wants it harder.</p><p>“But I want to savour it, <em> habibi, </em>” Joe explains, dragging his nose over his cheek, over the rough stubble until he meets the softer skin below his jaw and he kisses it, all the while fucking into him, unhurried and leisurely. “Feel your every breath. Every shiver,” he traces his fingertips over Nicky’s quivering abdomen as if to emphasise.</p><p> He gasps when Joe bites into his shoulder, a sound familiar and sweet and one that Joe has heard countless times but will never get tired of. He licks at the skin and soothes away the pain before he does the same thing to that spot on Nicky’s neck, right over his pulse.</p><p>"You are killing me, Yusuf,” Nicky complains shakily, slipping his hands into Joe’s damp curls, his own cheeks pink with the flush of pleasure. Joe smiles crookedly at him and slides into him, deep and perfect, right where he knows Nicky wants it, and he watches in satisfaction as the words melt on his tongue and turn into a series of soft moans and sighs.</p><p>“Ah, but you wouldn’t leave me here alone, would you, <em> hobi </em>?” he says, fucking him just a little harder.</p><p>“No,” Nico agrees, wrapping his arms around Joe’s shoulders. “Never.”</p><p>Joe kisses him, his cheeks, his forehead, the corner of his mouth, he licks the sweat that gathers between his collarbones and Nikky groans into his mouth when he wraps a hand around his cock. There are few pleasures greater than this, Joe thinks- perhaps one of them is waking up next to this man every morning and curling around him every night, or watching his mouth curve into the soft, gentle smile he knows so well, or standing with him back to back as they fight- but there is something to be said about loving Nicky this way, with his body and his touch- about drawing his pleasure out and watching him come undone beneath him.</p><p>And Joe remembers again, and there is a chance that this will be difficult to forget- the terror that filled his soul when the needle pressed his skin and his body turned to lead and he had thought- <em> Where are they taking us, where will they take Niccolo- </em></p><p>“Stay here,” Nicky urges him, bringing him back, cradling his face. “Stay here with me, Yusuf.”</p><p>Joe twists his head so he can press a kiss to his palm. “<em> Sono qui. </em>”</p><p>And after that Nicky says nothing else, only Joe’s name as he clutches at his forearm, fingers digging in until they leave bruises, a new one forming each time the old one heals. Joe watches him, dizzy and bewitched and aching with devotion, he whispers <em> Come on, Nico, perfect, my heart, yes, you are the most beautiful creature in all of existence, </em>and he’s not quite sure if Nico hears him or not because he seems to be lost, tossing his head and calling Joe’s name, imploring- </p><p>He comes first, spilling over Joe’s fingers and over himself, spine arching and legs clamping around Joe’s waist, his hands reaching for Joe’s so that he can twist them together. “Lovely, so lovely,” Joe croons, adding a bit more poetic nonsense there at the end when he finds his own release, burying his face into Nicky’s neck and biting into it to muffle his groans.</p><p>When he comes to, he can feel Nicky brushing his fingers through his hair, down his back. Joe lifts his head and they kiss, teeth clacking because they are clumsy with tiredness. “Better?” he asks, only half-teasing and Nicky shakes a little with silent laughter.</p><p>“Very well done,” he concedes, and Joe grins, flopping onto his back holding out his arm for Nicky. </p><p>“Joe, we’re filthy,” Nicky points out, gesturing to the smear of semen on both their bodies. Joe waves him off. </p><p>“We’ve had worse. Now come here.”</p><p>Nicky makes a small noise of assent and complies, fitting himself against Joe’s front and Joe turns over, throws his arm over his waist, rubbing his palm over Nicky’s heart. He buries his nose into his hair and inhales the familiar scent of him, and Nicky curls a hand over his wrist.</p><p>“We’re safe,” Joe promises him again, kissing the top of his ear. “Sleep now, <em> amore mio. </em>”</p><p>Nicky sighs, melting into his embrace, and Joe can feel as he relaxes against him, body growing soft and limp and vulnerable like it gets only when he is being held like this. Joe closes his eyes and falls asleep to the steady rhythm of Nicky’s breathing.</p><p><br/><br/><br/><br/>***</p><p><br/>They don’t actually leave for another month, which Joe doesn’t mind, not really. Nicky can't bring himself to leave Nile and Andy so soon after the incident, and joe realises that it’s possible he </p><p>would probably have said the same thing at the last moment.</p><p>“Nile is very protective of her,” Nicky muses while they’re watching the two of them spar with each other in the grass. “I think she will be okay,” he adds that bit a little nervously and Joe slides an arm around his waist, pressing a kiss to his temple.</p><p>“We don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” he reminds him. Part of him sees the wisdom in that, thinks maybe they <em> should </em>stay, look after Andy- the other part scoffs at the idea of Andy needing ‘protecting’ from anything, mortal or not. </p><p>“No,” Nicky says decisively, turning to him, mouth set in a hard line. “No, we will go. I just- we will check in with them as much as possible.”</p><p>“They’ll call us if they need us,” he says, and Nicky sighs, nodding, leaning his forehead against Joe’s shoulder. </p><p>The two of them fight until the sun sets behind the clouds. Joe and Nicky watch them until Nile throws down the sword and flops back against the grass. Andy shakes her head, trying to look disgusted but a smile pulls at the corner of her mouth and she joins her. </p><p>Joe thinks of the empty space beside them, and pushes the thought away. </p><p> </p><p>***</p><p>“But you’ll come back, right?”</p><p>Joe barks out a laugh, throwing their bag into the trunk of a rented car while Nicky throws an arm over  Nile’s shoulder and smiles gently down at her.</p><p>“Of course we’ll be back. Sooner than you think.”</p><p>Joe closes the trunk with a loud <em> thump </em>and turns towards her, grinning. “When you’re immortal time passes in the blink of an eye, you’ll see.”</p><p>Nile manages to roll her eyes and look slightly nervous at the same time. “So you guys won’t be gone long.”</p><p>Nicky shakes his head, very solemn all of a sudden. “You are our little sister,now, Nile. We will not be separated for longer than necessary.  You should ask Andy, she misses us as soon as we part.”</p><p>Andy snorts in response, ruining the effect. She gives Nicky a shove, glowering at the two of them but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. </p><p>“Why don’t the two of you fuck off on your gazillinonth honeymoon and leave us alone?</p><p>Joe winks at her. “Don’t exaggerate. Three hundred and seventeenth is my guess.”</p><p>“<em> Joe, </em>” Nicky admonishes him lightly, after which he holds his arms out for Andy. He holds her for a long time, tight and close, and Joe feels his chest squeeze at the sight. </p><p>“Be safe,” he tells her, kissing her forehead. “And you too,” he turns to Nile, who he hugs just as tightly.</p><p>“Call us if there’s an emergency,” Joe reminds the two of them, closing in after that for his preferred kind of bear-hug.  And then, reluctantly, "Pass it on to Booker."</p><p>Andy's mouth tightens but she nods once, sharply.</p><p>“I’ll take care of her,” Nile promises, nodding her head towards her, which makes all three of them laugh and successfully breaks the momentary tension. </p><p>“If she lets you,” Nicky mutters, at the same time Andy says, “Tomorrow you’re going to learn how to crash land a plane properly.”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>They have their one shared bag in the trunk, along with their weapons, and Nicky is the one who decides to slide into the driver's seat. “You’re tired,” he tells him, turning on the ignition. “Sleep.”</p><p>“Your fault,” Joe mutters. “It’s always the middle of the night for you.”</p><p>“I am a simple man, Joe, with simple needs. I like to have conversations with my husband at 3 am,” Nicky shrugs with exaggerated nonchalance as he turns on the radio.</p><p>“I wasn’t awake for large parts of it,” Joe points out, turning to him with what he thinks is irritation but is only exasperated fondness.</p><p>“Well,” Nicky says shortly, cupping his hand over his, starting to pull out of the driveway. “I’ll make it up to you in Malta.”</p><p>Joe laces their fingers together and leans forward to kiss him on his cheek. “Romantic,” he teases, just to pull out that specific abashed chuckle from Nicky’s mouth. </p><p>“Only sometimes,” he inclines his head. “Ready?”</p><p>Joe rolls down the window and looks outside, and then at Nicky, the way the late afternoon sun catches in his hair and turns it a lovely shade of golden-brown, the brightness of his eyes. “To be alone with you?” he smiles. “Always.”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I am immortal-trash on tumblr, come and say hi!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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